


Once upon a Battlestar

by akh



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akh/pseuds/akh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated drabbles of the Adama/Roslin variety. More or less canon compliant unless otherwise stated in the chapter notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally on Tumblr in answer to a dialogue prompt: “Please don’t argue. You have to leave right now, you aren’t safe here.”

Bill could hear the gunshots before his eyes could register what was actually happening.

He did not pause to think. Before any of the president’s security detail had even flinched, he had tackled her and pinned her down to the ground, using his body to form a shield against whatever threat might be directed at her. Laura had only just survived cancer. He sure as frak wasn’t going to let an assassin get her now.

“Admiral…what…?” she breathed, instinctively struggling against his unexpected hold as she tried to clamber up again.

Bill could not allow her to move.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said urgently, never relinquishing his hold of her even as she begun to relax in his arms, having recovered from the first shock of being tackled to the ground so unexpectedly.

“Bill, what are you doing?” she hissed against his ear. By this time they were surrounded by the president’s personal security team and Bill judged it safe enough to allow Laura to sit up. The danger, as he saw it, was not yet over, though.

“Please don’t argue. You have to leave right now, you aren’t safe here.”

Laura looked around at her security team and then at Bill, still apparently at a loss. As Bill scanned the marines and saw the confusion registered on their faces too, he could not comprehend the level of incompetence. These were the people entrusted with the president’s life? With Laura’s life?

“Did none of you hear the gunshots?” he asked incredulously.

“Gunshots, Sir?” one of the marines asked. “You mean that pipe bursting?” He nodded his head towards a bulkhead where one pipe now seemed to be emitting hot steam. A nuisance, to be sure, and possibly more than a little trouble for the fleet, depending on the level of damage, but not an immediate threat to the president’s life. How he had mistaken the sound for gunshots, Bill could not fathom.

“I’m sorry, Madam President,” he said, reverting back to formality in order to hide his own embarrassment. He could see Laura struggling to hold back a giggle as she stood up again, assisted by both Bill and the marine who had spoken. To her credit, however, she managed to keep her amusement to herself.

“Admiral,” she said as soon as she was stading upright again, the tone of her voice as presidential as Bill had ever heard it, “Thank you for your concern.”

Despite her composed exterior, though, Bill could still see the mirth dancing in her eyes as she spoke to him, and suddenly he felt the urge to laugh, too. Probably would have, if it weren’t for the damn useless marines still surrounding them. He cast the men a stern glance, making each of them take a step back by the sheer authority of his look. The president might get away with laughing at the Admiral of the fleet, but his own subordinates certainly would not.

“Well, you heard the Admiral,” he heard Laura chime in. Her voice was stern, but Bill could hear the amusement still bubbling underneath. “I’m clearly not safe here, so we should move on." 

"Where to?” Bill asked, offering the president his arm before anyone could protest. 

They walked a few steps ahead of the marines for privacy before Laura replied, her tone a little teasing:

“I hear the Admiral’s quarters are quite safe. Would you say so?”

Finally allowing himself to grin a little, Bill nodded his head.

“The safest you’ll find aboard this ship, Madam President,” he assured her.

They continued on in silence for a moment. Then, just as they reached the corridor leading to his quarters, Bill finally heard it: the muffled giggle from his right, bursting out as a somewhat un-presidential snort.

Laura tugged at his arm then and leaned a little closer. “My hero,” she managed to whisper before another giggle erupted, and Bill knew he would not live this particular episode down any time soon. Looking at Laura and her dancing eyes, he also knew he did not particularly mind.


	2. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr in answer to the dialogue prompt: “You embarrassed me tonight.”

Bill pours himself another generous dose of ambrosia as he waits for her. He can still almost feel Laura's eyes on him as she had watched him stumble out of her press conference, drunk and disorderly. That godsdamned press conference where she had formally announced that she was giving up – not in those words, of course, but the message was clear enough: she would remain the president in name only while Lee would take on nearly all of her duties.

She hadn't even been angry with him. That was the worst part. When he had turned to look back at her, there was only sadness in her eyes.

He wants her to be angry. He _needs_ her to be angry rather than just sad and resigned. He needs her to fight. To fight him, to fight anyone who would try to supplant her, and most importantly fight that wretched cancer that keeps consuming her.

Lost in his misery and numbed by his own drunkenness, Bill almost doesn't hear the hatch open. Laura has already slipped in before he is able to catch up with the fact that she has arrived. She says nothing as she passes the couch, walking over to the head instead, and Bill watches silently as she removes her wig and ties a scarf around her bald head - a ritual he has witnessed many times, sometimes even participated in. This time, though, he does not move. He is not sure he even could get up if he tried, the ambrosia thick in his veins. Instead, he waits for her move. But she seems to be in no hurry.

He watches her take a towel, run it under cold water and then dab her face and neck with it, trying to relieve whatever pain and tension happens to be the most prevalent to her at the moment. Bill aches to join her. To run his hands over her skin and ease her muscles with the gentle touch of his fingers, but he still doesn't trust himself to move.

Finally, Laura drops the towel in the sink and turns to face him, making her way silently to the couch. She looks at Bill and he returns her gaze as well as he can, not quite able to bring his eyes to focus.

“You going to finish that?” she asks at last, nodding towards the half full glass of ambrosia in front of Bill. There is a hint of challenge in her voice, and for a moment Bill considers reaching for the glass and downing it all in one go, but then he just shakes his head, burying his face in his hands.

“Then maybe you should go to sleep,” Laura says, her tone flat. She sounds tired.

“I'm sorry, Laura.” Bill looks up again, his eyes pleading with her. His voice is deep and thick.

Laura's smile is faint as she reaches a hand to cup his face.

“You embarrassed me tonight,” she says, but there is no accusation in her voice. Either she has no strength to argue or she simply pities him. Bill isn't sure which would be worse. Maybe she just loves him, unconditionally. “Lee, too,” she adds quietly. “Probably more than me. At least in my case it doesn't really matter anymore.”

Bill swallows the lump threatening to rise up his otherwise dry throat.

“Don't say that,” he argues meekly. Laura's thumb catches the tear that falls down his face, and even through his blurry vision, Bill can see that her own eyes are moist too. She doesn't reply but moves her hand down to place it on his open palm. He can feel the tremor in it as he intertwines his fingers with hers, steadying them.

“I'm tired, Bill,” she sighs softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Bill wishes she had yelled at him instead, but he can't deny her the comfort she needs by trying to start an argument. Maybe to watch her in pain is the penance he deserves.

“We should both go to sleep,” she speaks again after a short silence.

Bill nods his head in silent agreement.

“I can sleep on the couch,” he offers meekly. It's the least he can do.

But Laura won't hear of it.

“Well, I can't,” she says, and now there is some measure of determination in her voice. “And I'm not sleeping on that rack by myself. Come.” She stands up and, still holding Bill’s hand, pulls him up with her to unsteady legs.

He would follow her anywhere, but perhaps it is for the best that this time he only needs to make it to the rack.


	3. Not tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before Crossroads, based on prompt: "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Laura shifts on the couch, closing the last file on the evening's agenda and placing it back on the table in front of her. Chancing a glance in Bill's direction, she can see he is already unbuttoning his uniform; a telltale sign that the work portion of the evening is finished and he is ready to put aside the Admiral.

When he looks up and their eyes meet, his frown turns into an easy smile.

She can't tell him. Not tonight.

"You will stay for dinner?" There's just a hint of a question in his voice, but Laura knows he's not really asking. He assumes she will stay, of course, like she nearly always does. It's a habit they both have come to relish - the quality of the company and conversation making up for the ever decreasing quality of the meal.

Only, tonight Laura is not sure she could swallow even a single bite.

"I…" She hesitates only for a moment, but it's long enough to bring a questioning look into Bill's eyes. Laura quickly forces a smile. "Sure, of course I'll stay," she replies before her better judgment can chime in. Of course she'll stay.

Maybe she can even pretend she hasn't been to see Dr. Cottle today. Or three days before. Maybe she can pretend the results were inconclusive. Maybe she can…

"Laura?" Bill's voice cuts through her thoughts, gentle but probing. She feels a stab of guilt.

She should tell him.

"You know, I'm not really all that hungry right now." It’s not a lie. She's really not hungry.

Bill's eyes search hers and Laura steels herself to meet his gaze. Of course, it's of no use. He can see right through her - can see there's something she's withholding. His next question is inevitable.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Bill's voice is a soft rumble, laced with concern rather than accusation.

She wants to tell him, but she can't. Not yet.

Another forced smile.

"No," she finally drawls out the word, the single syllable taking far more effort than it should.

He knows she's lying. She can tell.

But it's better this way. It would be worse if he knew she was dying.


	4. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-Exodus drabble based on the Tumblr prompt: “Are you kidding me? We’re not ‘fine’!”

Bill boards Colonial One with a tightness in his chest that he hasn’t fully been able to shake even after learning she’d been rescued.

There _had_ been a moment of relief after first being informed that the president (Roslin, not Baltar) was alive and - as far as anyone knew - unharmed.

Then he had met Saul Tigh, only a shell of the man who used to serve as his XO, and Kara Thrace, aimlessly wandering the hangar deck aboard Galactica with an empty look in her eyes, as if a light had gone out.

As he enters the president’s quarters now, Bill is almost afraid to see what has become of Laura.

Will her spirit be another casualty of this ordeal he should have fought harder to prevent? All he knows for now is that she, too, has been held in detention, on and off for the past four months.

Moreover, he has seen the list of citizens ordered for execution. Seeing Laura’s name there, before learning of her fate, had nearly been Bill’s undoing.

The awereness of how close he had come to losing her is enough to send a chill down his spine even now.

Seeing Laura, and being able to assertain for himself that she is truly well, is all Bill has been able to think about, but as he steps through the curtain separating the former president from the rest of the survivors, he is taken aback by the sight in front of him.

Much as he has expected to see Laura, he finds himself ill prepared for the sight of Laura Roslin and Tom Zarek, deep in a conversation that looks more like friendly banter than any of the icy exchanges he is used to witnessing between the two.

Bill bristles silently as Laura’s low chuckle cuts through the conversation, and then clears his throat to make his presence known before the smug smile on Zarek’s face becomes too much for him to take.

The mirth dies on Laura’s lips as she looks past Zarek to Bill, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe as he takes in her appearance - a little thinner, her cheeks more hollow than before, her hair longer and more wind-swept, but still unmistakably, endearingly Laura. As their eyes lock, her face softens and Bill breathes again, more easily than he has done in the past four months.

She’s alive. She’s Laura. Nothing else matters.

She moves to greet him but then seems to remember Zarek’s presence as she casts and apologetic look towards the man. Bill can’t help but wonder how the two have suddenly become so close.

“Tom,” she drawls, and Zarek seems to take the hint, moving towards the exit even as he eyes Bill from head to toes.

“Admiral,” he says, giving Bill a curt nod. Bill finds himself struggling with a not altogether unusual urge to punch him in the face.

“As it happens, I was just leaving,” the man continues, “But I’m sure you and I will have a lot to catch up with another time.” Zarek turns to acknowledge Laura with another nod and then slips behind the curtain before either of them can respond.

Bill listens to his retreating footsteps until he’s certain the weasel has disappeared to another part of the ship. Only then does he allow a smile to spread across his face as he locks eyes with Laura again and swiftly crosses the remaining space between them.

Words, at that point, become obsolete.

He opens his arms and Laura silently walks into his embrace as if at once there’s nothing and all too much to say.

_“Laura…”_ he breathes into her hair, pressing his lips against her scalp, and then pulling her a little closer still until suddenly he can sense her flinch in his arms.

Immediately he pulls away enough to study Laura’s face.

“It’s nothing,” she mutters, shaking her head slightly, her tone almost apologetic. “Just took a bit of a tumble today. Frakking Cylons…”

Bill doesn’t ask. Not yet. She’s alive, and that’s all that matters. For now.

He takes her hand into his, intending to pull it to his lips, but his attention is caught next by the angry red marks circling her wrist. A quick look down her other arm reveals a similar sight.

Bill can tell that her hands have, until recently, been bound. But again he does not speak, does not ask except with his eyes that once again fly to Laura’s.

And once again she only shakes her head. Words seem to be in short supply for both of them, and he doesn’t want to pressure her.

Instead, he completes what he had intended by bringing her hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses on the marks on her wrist. “It’s okay,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re fine now.”

He regrets his words almost immediately when a look crosses her face that seems to say _“Are you kidding me?”_

She remains silent, though.

“Aren’t we?” he asks, studying her face.

She smiles. A hollow smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. So unlike the Laura whose glowing smile could always make up for the paleness of the New Caprican sun.

“We’re not ‘fine’,” she says at last, her voice, too, lacking its usual richness. Then her face softens and she traces Bill’s tightening jaw with a gentle finger. “But at least we’re alive.” Her voice catches. “And we have you to thank for that.”

It’s Bill’s turn to shake his head, feeling as he looks at Laura, or thinks of Saul or Kara, that he deserves none of the gratitude coming his way. He may have ultimately saved their lives, but he has also failed them all.

“We will be fine,” he says eventually, not because he believes it, but because he is determined to believe it.

Laura’s only response is a soft hum as she rests her head on his shoulder, her body slacking against his as if suddenly too tired to resist the comfort he tries to offer.

Bill doesn’t tell her he loves her, when he gently folds his arms around her, but for the first time, he allows himself to feel it.


End file.
